A Phantom's Angel
by EPiK
Summary: Amelia, granted with the power of wishgiving, is transported back to 1800's Paris, right on Erik's doorstep. Relationships build until a chorus girl named Christine appears. Amelia can help Erik in the greatest way, but does she want to? Please R&R! PG-1
1. Ring

Yeah… my first phanphic. xx Based on a story/fantasy I've had in my head. Mostly based on the book, and also on 'Phantom' by Susan Kay. Please review:D

The normal type font is Amelia's view, and the italicized font it Erik's… diary?... naw… journal… mind. Or whatever.

PotO characters © Grand Master: Leroux

Amelia loved jewelry. She especially loved digging in bins at yard sales looking for antique jewelry. Perhaps this hobby started the hole chain of events.

It wasn't that dazzling of a ring. A gold band, with a single crystal embedded into it. Glass, she supposed. Maybe a gem. Yet is was the word engraved on the inside of the band that made her pay the 50 cents for the ring. A foreign word, but of what language she couldn't tell.

She brought her treasure home, and put it on, admiring it on her ring finger. The gem twinkled in the dim light of her room, winking at her as she moved her hand back and forth.

That's when she felt it.

A lurch at her stomach, like she was being pulled by her belt loops by a ghost. It pulled harder and harder, and finally Amelia fell into a deep blackness, swearing she heard a haunting melody in the back of her head.

_The most shocking discovery today. It seems a goddess from the ancient Greeks has washed up on the shore of my dreary little lake. _

_I discovered her while returning to my home this evening. She lay wet and unclothed on the slippery black stones in front of my door, the colour of ivory like a statue of Venus. She was unconscious as well. I don't know what madness led me to it, but I brought the wilted creature inside, covered her up with the unused linens in the spare bed, and left her alone. I dare not touch her._

_I know this surreal dream will end when the poor thing wakes to find her rescuer. Or perhaps her captor. _

_Oh what a fool I've been! How can I let her go now? Now that she's seen my only sanctuary in this cold world. _

_Or perhaps she will simply fly back to her home in heaven, and leave me be down here in hell._

_All I do know is that I feel this has been a grave mistake._

Naked! Amelia's brain kept screeching it. How the hell did I get naked? Her face flushed. She remembered a silent strong man pick her up and put her in these cool bed sheets. She felt too embarrassed to move.

Her surroundings were grand and lavish. Victorian furniture lined the room, as well as fresh red roses and candles in golden holders. She pondered stealing some of these gorgeous artifacts, but decided against it.

Getting up from the giant bed, Amelia tiptoed softly to the wardrobe in the corner of the room. She opened it to find a variety of beautiful old fashioned dresses, petticoats, corsets, and other things she couldn't quiet define. She pulled out a long sheer nightgown and slipped it on. Figure they'd rather have me in their clothes instead of prancing around naked, she thought.

She took a deep breath, standing in front of the bedroom doors. How embarrassing, this whole occasion. She'd just apologize, and kindly ask to use the phone. She didn't try to figure out how she got here, only how she'd explain it to her mom on the way home.

She turned the glass doorknob and opened the door.

A mask. A man in a black mask! Oh Jesus, Amelia thought, I've been captured by a psycho rapist killer. He was sitting at a piano, scrawling on some paper quiet franticly.

The main room was decorated as the bedroom was. There were artifacts from around the world scattered here and there, and a Siamese cat was slinking around the man's feet, eyeing Amelia suspiciously.

Amelia stood in awkward silence for a moment, deciding to speak or not. Finally she managed to squeak, "Excuse me?"

The man jumped a little and spun around. "Vous êtes éveillé…" he said, mildly surprised. Amelia noted his voice was like velvet.

"Ummm, do you speak English?"

"A little," the man said in an accented voice.

"May I use you're phone?"

The man looked puzzled.

"PHONE?" Amelia said, a little louder, making a hand motion by her ear, like she was speaking to a deaf child.

The man still looked bewildered.

Great, Amelia thought, I wish I could understand French.

"Je ne sais pas ce qu'êtes vous talking about," the man continued.

What? Amelia stood stunned. I can speak French now?

"Je suis une banane chaude," Amelia said, testing her instincts of what to say.

The man looked even more puzzled, then laughed. "I think you should lie down some more."

Amelia's cheeks flushed. Crap. He understood. "Where am I?" Amelia asked.

The man didn't answer, but he stood from his chair. Holy God, he looked shorter sitting down. "I am afraid I can not tell you."

"Are you kidnapping me?" Amelia said nervously.

The mans eyes grew sad. "Perhaps I am."

"Please take me back! My mom will worry about me."

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

Amelia felt tears forming. She'd be like those girls they talked about on Lifetime who made the wrong mistake and were never seen again. Great.

"What is your name then?" she demanded.

"My name? My name is Erik."

Chapter 2 soon to come! I have it all planned out. MURHURHUR. X3


	2. Rage

Wow! Thanks everyone for the wonderful comments. I received more than expected. So, by popular demand, I give you chapter 2.

PotO characters © Grand Master: Leroux

It had taken Amelia a week to come to terms with the idea she was living in the phantom of the opera's underground house. Sure, she had listened to the musical, read the book, even written a few pointless fan fictions. But it was still a mind trip to discover you've been plopped in the midst of an insane genius in 1884, under an opera house.

Erik had kept to himself while Amelia had been there. He showed her a cold sort of courteousness, but came and went when he pleased, sometimes leaving her alone for days. To Amelia's surprise, he asked nothing about her. Not how she showed up naked on his doorstep, nor her curiosity as to why there was no electricity.

Amelia grew restless in the confined home. Besides, the cat had been making her go into fits of sneezing.

"Erik," she confronted him one evening, "I'm tired of being stuck here. I want to go somewhere."

He seemed annoyed with this request. "Entertain yourself then."

"I have been for the past week!" Amelia whined.

Erik gave a sigh, and remained silent.

Amelia paused for a moment, the spoke, "Teach me to sing."

He gave a short laugh, "What?"

"I want to learn how to sing."

He considered it for a moment. "Very well," he said, "Let's see where you're at then." He strode to the piano, took his seat, and looked at Amelia. "What would you like me to play?"

Amelia stood, feeling stupid. She'd listened to opera, but had no favorite aria or ballad. She knew songs form _La Boheme_, but had that even been written yet?

"I don't know any songs," she quietly admitted.

"Then we'll do scales."

Simple enough, Amelia thought. Erik played the first scale, and Amelia did her best to sound good, remembering the vibrato and to stay in pitch. After the first set of scales, Erik stopped. Amelia felt her face burning with embarrassment.

"Well?" she asked.

He gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "There is definitely better talent in the world," he said.

Amelia wasn't that surprised. She knew she wasn't a diva. "Well that's what practice is for. Now give me the scales again."

Erik looked at her for a moment, then gave a nod and began to play.

_That girl sang like a crow. She cracked on high notes like a clarinet and I did my best not to stop playing and laugh. Yet, I admire her spirit, so our lessons will continue till she improves. Or until I go insane. _

Late in the evening, Amelia had woken from a restless sleep. She was tangled in her sheets, and her pillow was on the floor. As she got up to situate her sleeping arrangements, a melody softly wafted through the crack in her door. It started out quiet, then grew strong and pulsating, drawing her closer to the door. The slow melancholy rhythm continued, becoming ever more beautiful, until…

That voice! Amelia had known Erik's voice was that of a nightingale, but she never expected anything like _this_! It put her into such a trance that she didn't notice opening the door and slowly walking behind Erik's hunched figure, nor did she realize she resting her hands on his shoulders, feeling him slightly sway to the music.

It took him a few seconds to realize as well. He stopped playing, and Amelia snapped awake, drawing back her hands to her sides.

"Sorry," she stammered.

He stood, said "Excuse me," with a little bow, and walked over to a small buffet to fetch himself a glass of wine.

Amelia looked at the scattered sheet music on the piano. Yes, as she suspected, it was his _Don Juan_. Instinctively, she picked it up and began to shuffle through it, seeing all the tiny notes scrawled in red ink.

"Drop that!" Erik yelled from across the room.

Amelia was so stunned; she literally did drop the manuscript, so papers when sailing everywhere across the floor.

Erik strode horrifically fast to Amelia, grabbing her by the wrist with his cold boney hand. Amelia flinched and the tightness of his hold.

"You stupid girl!" he roared, "Never touch my things!"

Amelia shrank, afraid of this sudden burst of rage.

Erik threw down her wrist, and bent to pick up the papers, crumpling them in his hand with anger.

Amelia backed up and sat on the corner of the plush sofa. Her wide glossy eyes never left him.

_Good God in heaven, what have I done? I saw the poor thing from the corner of my eye, trembling and clutching her wrist in her small hand. I am ashamed of my sudden outbursts, for it seems this act has lessened my trust with this strange angel._

_After I had collected myself, I helped her off the sofa, her eyes still large with fear, and into her bedroom._

_Will she ever speak to me again? Will she even be here in the morning? Perhaps my troubled mind misleads me, but I swear I can hear her sobbing in her room right this very moment. Oh, what have I done? I am afraid, for some unknown reason to me, that I will lose her._

…_Her hands felt so warm upon my shoulders…_

AN: Remember to comment! Chapter 3 to come soon…


	3. Portrait

:D More comments! Thanks everyone. I tried updating sooner but I've been really tired. A few questions…

Sango-2099 wrote: "Nice story...but a few things bother me...  
First, it went a little fast. I would have like to have read what happened the first week.  
Also, Erik was a bit OOC. Tho i liked it when he got mad...;P"

I'm sorry I made the first week fast, but I didn't want to story to drag over something not very interesting. And if by OOC you mean Erik was being too nice, I agree. But don't worry, he'll get crazy pretty soon. :3

Also, the langolier said: "when you said "Vous êtes éveillé" were you trying to say "you've woken up?" because that would be vous vous etes reveille with the accent marks i'm too lazy"

Why yes! I was. Unfortunately I don't actually speak French. I was using an online translator. Sorry about that.

PotO characters © Grand Master: Leroux

* * *

There was a definite change in Amelia's behavior after that night. She rarely left her room, and when she did, she walked timidly like a mouse. She didn't call him Erik anymore. It was always, "monsieur".

Erik was too stubborn to apologize. Indeed, he felt bad about losing his temper, he felt guilty even, but he still regarded Amelia as if nothing had happened, growing agitated when she sat on the sofa and stared into the flames of the fireplace rather than asking strange questions like a curious child. He had not played any music since then, and she didn't ask him to. The only interaction between them was on one day where Amelia had inched up to him and said quietly, "Monsieur, may I have some paper and a quill?" She had hastened back to her burrow when he had given her some.

There was still a faint bruise around her small wrist.

* * *

_I took it upon myself to see what that child has been up to as of late. While she was taking a bath one evening, I snuck into her room quietly and saw a pile of the papers I had given her on the floor. I reached for them, realizing just how much of a hypocrite I am. She had drawn many sketches of people upon the paper, some with beast-like tails, and others with extravagant feathers and beads strewn upon their hair. They were rather good. Actually, they were very good. As I admired this strange collection of sketches, I came across my final discovery. It was me! My horrid corpse's face and all! How did she know about my secret, that I had tried to keep hidden from the world ever since I could remember? I became paranoid. Perhaps she had seen me in those brief moments where I remove my mask? The subject of the mask never came up between us. Perhaps because she'd already seen what was behind it? A mix of anger and embarrassment swirled within me, until I heard the door click._

_Instinctively, I jumped back, out of sight, in the shadows of the room. Amelia walked in, and closed the door behind her. She was wearing my silk kimono, and I hoped something underneath. She walked to the wardrobe, and let the robe slip off her shoulders to the floor. I saw her white flesh. I felt my face redden, praying I wasn't seen. Luckily she had forgotten something in the bath and dawned the robe again, slipping out of the room._

_I never remember fleeing so fast in my life.

* * *

_

That morning Amelia woke to a colder room that she remembered. She looked out into the main room, and saw the fire had not been lit. Odd, she thought. She saw a book of matches lying near the hearth, and walked over to pick them up.

She felt a shadow come up behind her, and she spun, gasping when she saw Erik, who seemed rather close to her.

"So," he said coolly, "You've seen me."

The statement confused Amelia, "Excuse me?"

She saw him stiffen, "You have seen my face, you little weasel! And you didn't have the courage to even approach me! You had to hide and watch from somewhere safe."

Amelia frowned. She hated being accused of things she hadn't done. "I did nothing of the sort."

"You're lying!" he yelled.

Amelia was frightened, but she did not cower. "I am not," she said strongly.

"Then what is _THIS_?" Erik flung a crumpled piece of paper at her feet.

She bent to pick it up; flattening it out of the ball it had been made into. It was her picture! "How did you get this?"

He didn't answer, only said, "I believe you have to explain yourself to me first."

"You were in my room! How _dare_ you!"

"_You_ are the one in _my_ house!"

Amelia began to shake with anger. "I didn't ASK to be kept here! But you're too much of a coward to even let me go!"

"Coward am I? You were the one hiding from _THIS_," and with that Erik ripped the mask from his face.

Amelia couldn't help but go a little wide-eyed. There was a deafening silence. She could see sweat on Erik's forehead, and a little panic in his eyes.

"I may have some bad qualities, monsieur," she said, still remaining firm, "But sneaking around is _your_ ability, I believe."

His lips tightened. He turned abruptly, clenching his fists, until he picked up a vase from an end table and hurled it and inch from Amelia's head.

She stood stunned. His shoulders were heaving and trembling.

"Well," she said with a trembling voice, "I'm glad your soul matches your face so well." With that, she walked to her room and slammed the door.

* * *

As she lay steaming mad in her bed, she could hear Erik weeping from his room. She sighed and put a pillow over her head to drown out the sound. His voice was beautiful even when he cried.

* * *

That evening, she had emerged from her room again. Erik was sitting on the sofa, reading a book. She gathered her courage and approached him. He did not look up from his reading, so she gently shut the book set in his lap.

"Erik," she said softly, "I do not want to live as an enemy with you."

He said nothing but she could tell he was listening.

She knelt in front of him. "I can forgive you if you can forgive me," she looked into his eyes.

Slowly, she raised her hand to rest upon the mask, and took it off, setting it on the couching next to Erik.

He looked nervous, but he did not yell or move to get the mask.

"Do you forgive me?"

He paused a moment, looking hard upon her face. "Of course."

She smiled slightly. "And I forgive you. Yet, I ask one other thing of you, to reconcile your actions."

He raised an eyebrow. "What would that be?"

She grinned broadly, "Take me to an opera!"

* * *

A/N: Another day, another chapter. :3 Stay posted. 


	4. Opera

As usual, thank you all for the comments.

AuronLives wrote: A)Beware of the Mary Sue. Erik should not fall for this girl, and certainly not so fast. She is a young girl, and he is a man who is not interested in people in general.  
B)Also beware of mixed metaphors. Cows don't sing!  
C)Transitions, transitions, transititions and detail. Still that choppy feel here, keeps you from really losing yourself in a story.

D)Yep, Erik. Erik is a tough little bitch to write, but make sure you keep him in better character. I think he might have been annoyed at the fact that some random little girl washed up on the shore of his lake. I mean, his first thought on seeing Joseph Buquet in the torture chamber was yay, it isn't Nadir! So, perhaps provide more of a reason for his actions, and for why he is being so cordial with random lost little girl.

AN: I won't give away the ending of the story, but I will say that I love romantic tragedies. So don't worry about the Mary Sue issue. Secondly, I wrote sang like a_ crow_. Not cow. :D About the lake issue, Joseph and Nadir are men, while Amelia is a girl. It shows in the books I referenced that Erik treated women much differently than men, almost like they were harmless. So that's why Erik wasn't too annoyed. AuronLives also went on to retype my story in beautiful detail… and I must say I loved it, yet it isn't just my style to write like that. I try to write how the brain thinks, which is an ever changing state of thought, so that's why it sounds a bit choppy. And I believe that less words can sometimes make more of an impact that a bunch of them. I'm not writing novel-quality work here, because it isn't a novel. This is a fun thing I do in my spare time, and I don't want to take it as a giant project. But thank you for the input!

PotO characters © Grand Master: Leroux

* * *

They were to leave in half an hour for the opera, _Aida_. Erik was silently dressing into his black silk evening coat, complimented by gold cufflinks. He placed a matching silk black top hat upon his head, and sat upon the sofa waiting patiently. Amelia noticed that he was fidgeting with the hem of his pant leg. How odd, she thought, he seems nervous.

Amelia, on the other hand, wasn't keeping a cool composure whatsoever. She was hustling about, washing her face, doing up her hair, wondering how to interact with all the 18th century people who stood directly above her at this very moment. She practiced in the giant mirror in her room, the only mirror in the entire house.

"Good evening," she quietly mouthed to her reflection. She curtsied a few times, extended her hand to herself and muttered, "What a delight to meet you, good sir." She felt like a total idiot.

In the middle of practicing her etiquette, she realized one fatal flaw. She had no dress. Panic filled her horrifyingly quickly. She threw open the grandiose mahogany doors to her room, and yelled, "Erik! What should I wear to this sort of thing?"

Erik turned his head to her and shrugged. Amelia let out a loud exasperated sigh, and tromped back into her room. _Men_.

"I wish I could just be the most stylish person at this entire opera!" she whined to herself.

There was a sound of rustling behind her, like the flapping of wings. She turned on her heel to see a gorgeous soft green gown lying upon her bed. Her mouth dropped open.

"I… I wish I had an ice cream Sunday?"

Another flap of wings and a small glass dish with ice cream, nuts, chocolate sauce, and whipped cream piled in it appeared on her vanity.

She squealed with joy, running to her new gown and pressing it against her body, admiring the lace trim, the silken flower print bodice, the gold beads laced into the sleeves of the dress. She twirled in the mirror, laughing.

"I am the all powerful genie!" she yelled, giggling madly.

Meanwhile, Erik threw a concerned glance towards the doors of Amelia's room.

Amelia quickly undressed, throwing her old clothes on the floor, not bothering to care if they became wrinkled or not. She wrestled into the dress excitedly, which formed to her perfectly once she got it all the way on.

"I wish I had awesome accessories to go with this dress!" she yelled, throwing her arms in the air like a madwoman.

And, like magic, a diamond necklace appeared around her bare neck, and a matching bracelet on her wrist. Soft shoes seemed to lace themselves up around her feet, satin gloves grew around her fingers, and a glittering diamond tiara graced her brown hair.

She gave one last squeal, feverishly clapping her hands together, and then opened the bedroom doors. She glided out to Erik, extended her gloved hand, and said in her best British accent, "Good evening, and what a delight it is to meet you, good sir."

* * *

Erik had explained that he could not sit beside her in plain sight in the infamous box five. However, he would be right beside her, concealed by a hollowed pillar.

"Wonderful!" Amelia sang, "Shall we go?" and with that she turned to head out the doors of the main living area.

"Stop!" Erik called to her.

She halted abruptly and turned, looking confused.

Erik approached her slowly, almost nervously, and began singing a low tune.

"Erik, this is no time for…" but Amelia couldn't finish her sentence. The beautiful music in Erik's voice began running warmly through her like wine. It pulsated and swirled, clouding her brain into a hazy dream. Erik took his gloved hand and led Amelia by hers out to a lake, where he picked up a small light. He continued to sing softly, and Amelia could only see the dancing light of his lantern on the water's surface. It seemed like that boat ride was just as if Amelia was floating across the water on a cloud. Sounds other than Erik seemed deafened, and colours seemed muted. She felt herself falling back into a warm black abyss full of the soaring notes from the phantom of the opera himself.

* * *

_My plan to blind Amelia with my music succeeded. She did not say a word the entire journey to the surface. She only smiled and followed me like a sheep. I was just like the pied piper, leading this creature away from my sacred home down in hell.

* * *

_

Amelia awoke form her dream to the sound of footsteps. Hundreds of footsteps. Then a voice.

"Mademoiselle? Are you alright?"

A young man, perhaps in his mid 20's, with a defined smooth face looked intently into her eyes. She felt herself blush.

"Um, yeah… I mean, yes. Yes, I am quiet alright."

She began to fan herself with her hand, and leaned against one of the many marble pillars in the Paris Opera's grand entrance hall. He left me, she screamed to herself. She felt a pang of panic hit her. Hundreds of patrons with opera glasses hurried up the stairs to their seats. When was the first act going to start?

"Mademoiselle? You look as if you are about to faint. Here, let me accompany you to your seat."

The young man offered his arm to Amelia, and she bashfully received it. He led her across the hall, up the stairs, then onto the landing.

"Forgive me, miss, but I do not know where you are sitting."

"Box five, monsieur," she managed to say.

He raised his eyebrows and chuckled. "Right. This way then."

Amelia noticed how proper he walked, and tried to remember how to walk like a lady. Chin up, shoulders back, chest out, butt out… she felt like a moron, but no one seemed to think she walked oddly.

They finally reached box five, after conquering dozens of stairs. The man opened the door for her and bowed. She nodded her head slightly in acknowledgment, and walked into the small parlor of box five.

"Oh, monsieur?" she asked, turning to face him before he shut the door, "I do not know your name."

The man seemed mildly surprised, but he flashed his gorgeous white smile and said, "I am Raoul de Chagny."

* * *

Amelia fidgeted in her seat. She felt stupid sitting up here, all alone, clutching the folds of her dress in her hand. The first act had not yet started.

She can't believe that was Raoul! The fop! And she also couldn't believe that she, fop-bashing Amelia, had felt that way about him. His smile made her insides quiver. She groaned a little from the sad irony of it all.

"Erik?" she whispered.

Silence.

"Erik? Are you here yet?"

More silence. Then a soft voice that seemed to be sitting right next to her said, "Yes, my dear. I am here."

Amelia felt a little less paranoid now. She smiled, "What took you?"

"A phantom comes and goes as he pleases."

"Where am I to meet you after the performance?"

"In front of the grand stair. Wait till everyone has left."

She confirmed this plan with a quiet 'ok', and applauded as the lights dimmed and the curtain rose.

* * *

What a performance! She rose from her seat, clapping, yelling 'Bravo!' just like she saw people in the movies do it.

"Oh Erik, that was marvelous!"

No answer.

Amelia frowned. He must have left already, she thought.

She made her way down to the stairs just as Erik had instructed. There she waited, seeing all the Parisians in their formal wear float out the doors to there awaiting carriages. How romantic it all was.

The crowd began to thin, and Amelia grew concerned. Where was Erik? She looked at the giant golden clock about the stairs. She'd been waiting for 20 minutes now. Then 30 minutes. Then 40. No one was left now, only the occasional staff hurrying about, fixing things or bringing food to the actors. Amelia felt tears in her eyes.

* * *

_I have done it. I had rid myself of that burden for good. Now she can go home to her mother and live life without me. _

_My home is so quiet now. I can only hear the fire crackling in the hearth and Ayesha's purring from under my hand. It's immensely calming. Yet… _

_No. I cannot go back now. I have released that little bird from her cage, and now she can fly away. For good.

* * *

_

Amelia could find Erik's house easily. Five floors down, and across a lake. But she was so hurt about being abandoned, she simply sat on the last stair and cried. This seemed to go on for a while, until she heard footsteps behind her. She hurriedly stood up straight again, and saw that it was Raoul.

"Why, if it isn't you again. What is the matter now, my dear?"

Amelia wiped her face, but she could tell it was still red and blotchy from her tears. Improvise, she though. "My coachman never came to collect me this evening. I am afraid I'm stranded."

"Oh you poor creature!" Raoul exclaimed. Amelia thought he was overreacting a bit. "Let my driver take you home," Raoul said, offering his hand.

Amelia hesitated, looking around to see if Erik might be watching. Yet he wasn't. She then looked Raoul in the eye, and took his hand. "It would be a pleasure, monsieur."

* * *

A/N: Ohhh, thedrama! Updates soon. Comment! 


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